A Small Detour
by chilnak
Summary: A short story. Someone ends up somewhere they did not expect. Written in the second person.


A Small Detour 

By chilnak

Disclaimer: I don't own Unreal Tournament, Epic does. Go buy  
it, its cool!

Summary: Someone ends up somewhere other than they expect.  
This is a little piece I wrote for a map I was working  
on for the original UT. It quickly became apparent  
that mapping was not my forté, but I liked the story  
enough to hang on to it. I might add more to it, I might  
not, it depends on whether I can come up with something  
that fits. If I do, I will retain the 2nd-person format (because  
its cool!) :-)

* * *

Once again you set foot on the tournament grounds, as you have countless  
times before. You have been placed into a large deathmatch on Morpheus, the  
three glistening five-hundred-mile-high towers attempting to reach from Earth  
into heaven.

You have been here countless times before, entering into battle for the  
honorable cause of entertaining the masses with your death. You have been in  
the tournaments so long that the life you had before has faded almost completely  
away. All that is left is the tournament; round after round, again and again. It is  
who you are. When awake you think of it, when asleep you dream of it, in all  
things, you live it. Today is no different.

As the tournament begins, you hear the familiar taunts of those around you.  
Sarina gets first blood by decapitating Raynor. Her taunt goes unheard by  
anyone; everyone is scrambling to find the best weapon, the perfect shot. You  
notice someone new in the match, someone you have not seen before, a Skaarj  
calling himself "SkUlLtHeiF". A new opponent, new tactics to learn. Maybe this  
will be an interesting match after all. You grab the shock rifle and incinerate Necroth  
and Athena with a shock combo. You opt not to yell a victory taunt; such things  
don't mean that much anymore. You see SkUlLtHeiF up on one of the towers,  
going for the armor vest. You aim the shock rifle, and draw a bead on him. The  
thought of how he will react, if he will survive, is mildly interesting to you. Just before  
you pull the trigger, you see someone out of the corner of your eye. You quickly look  
in time to see Loque, holding the sniper rifle, aiming it at you. You dive for a wall,  
knowing full well that with Loque holding a sniper rifle, your chances are not good.  
Time slows down. You're almost to the wall. You see a muzzle flash. You sense a  
momentary tingle, no pain, and feel your life end. Head shot, no doubt.

But you're still alive. Mildly amused at Loque's typical good luck, your mind  
floats in the ether, waiting for the tournament to reconstitute your body and throw  
you back into it for another round. This is the only true peace for a tournament  
warrior, the few instants between life. You let yourself drift for a moment. Then the  
coolness begins to stir around you. You prepare to reenter your refurbished body,  
bracing for the momentary shock to avoid reentering the tournament disoriented.  
The blackness turns to a soft blue.

Something is wrong. The blue is becoming white. You feel yourself moving very  
fast, though you don't know in what direction, or even if there is a direction. This is  
interesting. You have never experienced anything like this before. The break in the  
normal routine has prompted you to actually consider what is going on.

It has been much too long. It usually only takes an few moments to respawn, but  
you feel like it has been minutes. Faster and faster you go, the winds howling around  
you, as though you were traveling through an endless vortex. Only it's not endless.  
You sense the end approaching fast now. Everything is blinding white. Brighter.  
Brighter.

You respawn.

You're not on Morpheus anymore.

This is not an arena you've been to before. Light filters through windows high in  
the walls. As usual you cannot see what is outside, what is beyond the walls. Just a  
beautiful, moody sky. This place is not a Liandri arena. Liandri has nothing like this.  
For the briefest of instants, a thought flashes through your mind. Might this not be  
an arena at all? Dare you to hope for such a thing? But, alas, it is only a glimmer.  
There is a GES Biorifle in a corner to your left.

So then, you will fight, you now know. The part of you that can hope recedes  
into wherever elsewhere it came from. You will fight. There is nothing else. For a  
few minutes, you are alone in the arena. You soak in the quiet, the peace, knowing  
you won't get much. A scream. Cryss enters the arena somewhere. Others follow.  
For a minute, just a minute, no one fights. Everyone just looks at each other, at this  
new place. Then, one by one, they pick up weapons. You grab the Biorifle, and  
prepare to fight, in the most beautiful place you've ever seen.


End file.
